


The Way In

by micehell



Category: Miracles (TV)
Genre: Dark-ish, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-12
Updated: 2008-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:22:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alva was finally going to get his wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way In

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the annual NNNoN challenge, and it... well, certainly fits the challenge, so heed the warning. ;) This is also, in a weird way, a crossover... but, really, only weirdly. See note at bottom of fic for the movie, just in case you don't catch it on your own.

The bar was Irish, but yuppie-ly so, all warm woods and soft track lighting. The stout was fresh and thick, though, and Alva knew the lighting showed him to good advantage, bringing out the color of his eyes, making the soft waves of his hair shine. And, he admitted to himself, if a little wryly, it smoothed out the encroaching marks of age.

It certainly didn't hurt his companion any, either. It brought out the subtle hints of red and gold in in his hair, made eyes that were a dark rich brown shine almost gold through the lenses of his glasses, highlighted by the thick frames around them. It was almost enough to hide the similarities, but not quite. Not quite.

The not quite part was what kept Alva talking to him, even through the conversation that was as fake as the bar, all smooth veneer, nothing of substance underneath. But it wasn't like Alva wanted the man for his mind, after all, so he just nodded his way through their drinks, doing his best not to laugh at the idea of Satan not only being an author, but a careless one at that.

As the last of their drinks went down, the conversation shifted, less of words and more of gestures. A sly tilt of the head, invitation extended. A studied sweep of a foot, a hint to go. It was almost like Corso was trying to lead a cat, all pause and promise, and never mind that Alva had been ready to go about five minutes after they'd met.

But just like the previous conversation, Alva let Corso have his lead, content to watch and let Corso show him the way in. Concentrating on all the similarities that weren't hidden, intently ignoring the differences, awash in a fantasy of what-might-be.

In Corso's bedroom, dim even with the light of a full moon shining starkly through the open windows, Alva could almost believe it was Paul. All the differences layered in shadows, all the warmth of his touch making Alva _choose_ to believe, if just for a little while.

As the body settled over him, in him, he looked up into a face that was almost perfect, but not quite right. Not quite what he needed. But Alva was long used to not having quite what he needed, and the feel of the hard body under his hands, the hard cock riding his ass, after so long without, was almost enough.

Almost enough to make him not care when hard went to rough. It still felt good, but it was too much of a difference, nothing of Paul's soft manners, Paul's lack of aggression that wasn't spirit-induced. But nothing he did slowed things down, and Corso only laughed when he tried to throw him off.

"No!" Alva bucked under him, but Corso only used the position to drive in deeper, rough turning to painful, with hands and force far beyond the frame wielding them. Hands grinding on his wrists until Alva thought they would break, the once-welcome body slamming into him until he thought he would break, too.

"Get the fuck off of me!" was met by more laughter and a different voice than Corso had been using, this one no longer smooth and sure, but rough with desire, with malice. "What, isn't this how your precious Paul would do it?"

It was all difference now, and there was nothing of Paul in this man. Alva shook his head, trying to deny everything; Corso's question, his own misjudgments, the frightening mention of a man that Alva hadn't breathed a word about all evening, not even in the height of his fantasy. Alva wondered if anything that had preceded the pain had been real, or if it was all illusion, like the dark eyes that weren't dark at all, glinting gold in the moonlight as they stared down at him, daring him to understand what was happening even as Corso's body shuddered and stilled, the wet warmth of blood and semen smearing between them.

Alva didn't allow himself to believe it was over, though, not with Corso still on him, still in him, apparently content with his position, leaning down to lick at the tracks of tears Alva hadn't been able to hold back. Alva stopped fighting him, his body going quiescent, realizing he wasn't getting free until it suited Corso. "What do you want with me? It can't just be the fuck. You could have had that without a fight -- did have that without a fight -- so there was no need for the game."

That got him a shrug, the voice still darker and rougher, but closer to what it had been, when there had still been similarities between the two. "I like the game. I like the pain. But you're right, that's not what this is about. No, this is about you, Alva. This is about your fondest wish."

Resignation hit him then, making him sigh. He'd let his guard down, thinking the lull in strange events lately meant that they might have some breathing space. Meant that the things that were after Paul might actually be giving them a break. And yet here he was, bloody and in pain, and bloody stupid for letting it get this way, and he was in no position, literally, to stop this thing from hurting Paul.

Corso shook his head, either reading the thought or his expression. "Not Paul. Not yet, at least. This is about your other wish, Alva, the one you've held most of your life." He paused, letting Alva wonder, guess, feel the stirring cock in his body, everything starting again as Corso played out his game. "You've always wanted to be... special. And I'm going to make you so."

Alva almost laughed at that, wondering how special he could be when he was stupid enough to have let this mad man fool him. Stupid enough to have let his guard down just because he'd been lonely, and horny, and wanting Paul so much that he was frustrated with how slow things were building between them. But he'd known he couldn't push Paul, or he'd lose him altogether, too much between them as it was. And now here was something else, a new threat against them all, and a rather painful lesson in the advantages of masturbation.

"Poor Alva. Always wanting something he can't have. Like Paul, the poor little lost orphan, so sweet and meek, and set to inherit the earth, yes? Except he's none of that, is he? He has a father, an important one. Oh, but you haven't figured that out yet, have you?" Corso winked, enjoying Alva's ignorance as much as he did his pain.

"But Paul has a destiny that's even more important. In fact he's the focal point of many people's destiny and that makes him... unique. Special. And now you're going to help him reach it."

Alva shook his head at that, but Corso just ignored him, a leer in his voice and on his face. He pushed his hips against Alva, his cock hardening more with the pain he was inflicting. "That uniqueness makes him exciting, right? Makes you want to fuck him, to fucking own him. But you can't, can you? No casual pickups for Paul, no, not for nearly-a-virgin little Paul. Isn't that right, Alva? Hasn't that been the problem? He still looks at you with that faint trace of betrayal in his eyes, doesn't he? Still looks at you with a heat he doesn't seem to understand, or at least doesn't seem to be willing to do more than tease you with. Makes you want to do something about it, doesn't it? Show him what it means. Show him how it's done. Forget the betrayal, forget the near-virginity, and just grab his hair, push him up against the wall, bite the soft flesh at the back of his neck as you push into his struggling body."

Corso ground down again, eyes half-lidded at the fantasy rape playing in his head, at the real one he was playing out with Alva, and he grinned. "Oh, yeah, maybe that last part was just me. But all that destiny, all that focus... it still makes you want him. But it also makes you jealous of him. Because he is, without effort, without even _wanting_ it, what you've always dreamed of being, and never been able to even come close to. Instead you've always been just poor little Alva, also an orphan, but with only a voice on a tape that might or might not have been your mother, and no greater destiny than to own a tiny little business, which makes tiny amounts of money, and live a tiny little life.

Except for him."

Corso was fully hard now, but in no hurry, hips moving in a slow rhythm that would have felt good if not for the tearing, if not for the fact that he was a fucking evil bastard that Alva wanted to kill. But the strength holding him was still too much, and the words battering at him were just a little too true, and all Alva could do was take it.

"Don't worry, though, sweet Alva, because I really am going to give you your wish, and make you special. In fact. I'm going to let you be a crucial key."

He paused, even his body stilling, waiting for the question he was sure to know Alva wanted to ask. Alva wanted to say nothing, to deny him that at least, but he had the horrible suspicion that Corso wouldn't move, wouldn't leave, wouldn't _stop_ , until Alva lost in every way, and even more than he wanted to hold out, Alva wanted it to be over.

"How?"

It was short, a passive rebellion, but it was enough for Corso. Enough to start thrusting again, speeding up as he neared his point, laughing again as he had his way. "You're my way in, Alva. Couldn't get him with sex. Couldn't get past his wariness of strangers. Couldn't get past the wards on his door. But you, Alva, you're my key."

He was thrusting faster now, savage in his victory, and Alva almost wished it would actually kill him instead of just feeling like it was. But he was still there, still conscious, when Corso came, "You're my way in," a shout in Alva's ear, echoing in his brain, a strange buzz that pulled him down into a darkness that held him with Corso's awful strength.

 

::::::::::

Paul wasn't expecting company, and he didn't answer the knock at the door. If it was someone he knew, they would have called before they came. But then he heard Alva's voice, slightly rueful, and slightly muffled through the thick wood. "Paul, I know I should have called first, but I was nearby, and... well, I'm slightly drunk, and I was hoping I could make use of your couch for an hour or two before I attempted to drive home. If you don't mind, that is?"

He hesitated, still feeling the impulse not to answer, but he didn't know why. It was just Alva, and, yes, they'd had their problems, but they'd reached an accord, more than that, even. And even beyond that, he'd never turn away someone in need.

But he still hesitated, something feeling not right, something that made him want to say no. Until Alva's voice came again, a tinge of hurt in it. "I understand if you have other plans, Paul. I'll find someplace else to stay."

Paul could have held out against anger, even against irritation, but hurt he had no defence against. He couldn't even see Alva's trademark puppy-dog-eye look, but he could feel its pull even so, and he smiled as he opened the door, knowing that the mournful look would morph into a quirk of lips that said Alva knew he had won, but still happy that the hurt was gone.

It turned out the puppy-dog-eyes weren't very mournful at all, the usual bluish-hazel shading to gold in the light shining out from the apartment, but the small victory smile was certainly visible. Alva was still a gentlemen, though, not stepping into the apartment until he'd been invited. "Honestly, do you mind if I come in?"

Hesitation forgotten in the face of his friend, Paul stepped back, arm swinging in invitation. "All right."

He turned back into the apartment, Alva close behind him, so near that Paul could feel the air stir on the back of his neck when he said, "This is the way in, isn't it?"

The door shut behind them.

/story

**Author's Note:**

> A/N part deux: Corso is Johnny Depp's character in _Ninth Gate_ , a truly awful movie. That's where the whole _similarity_ comes in, because while Mr. Depp is better looking, Mr. Ulrich and he have a certain sameness in their appearance all the same. ;) Keep in mind that Corso in the movie is kind of slimy, but (er, maybe) not this slimy, so I was just making use of him for the heck of it, not really keeping him in character. *snicker*


End file.
